


In The Darkest Night Hour

by nitpickyabouttrains



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars RPF
Genre: 3Y, Ask me for a star wars rpf or a hooker AU and you end up with both in one, Hooker AU, M/M, RPF, not even sorry, not sure how this happened, sex worker feelings, star wars rpf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitpickyabouttrains/pseuds/nitpickyabouttrains
Summary: He stepped out into the dark night. He did it every night, but it never seemed to get easier. In a sketchy part of town, with nothing but a seedy club and a brothel, the area was never going to feel safe. Especially not on nights like this, when there were drunks loitering out in the alley, blocking Mark’s way to the street.





	In The Darkest Night Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelheadedhipster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/gifts).



> Happy 3Y angelheadedhipster! This keeps being an amazing idea.

Mark rolled his shoulders back and stretched his arms over his head. He heard the satisfying ‘pop’, felt his muscles strain, and then relaxed with a sigh. There was never any real relaxation at 3am at Tosche, but it helped to stretch.

He stepped out into the dark night. He did it every night, but it never seemed to get easier. In a sketchy part of town, with nothing but a seedy club and a brothel, the area was never going to feel safe. Especially not on nights like this, when there were drunks loitering out in the alley, blocking Mark’s way to the street. 

Three of them, as far as he could make out, each with their own brown bag hiding a bottle. They were getting a little rowdy, one looking at him, and Mark could tell they would not just let him pass by. 

“Look at the pretty whore,” one slurred, almost on cue. He staggered toward Mark, pointing a finger. 

Mark looked down, tucking his chin into his neck, and started to walk past. He did not want a fight, and there were three of them. He would just ignore them and hope they forgot, like drunks sometimes did. 

“Fucker thinks he’s better than us,” the tallest of the three said, shoving in front of the first one, so that he was closer to Mark. 

Mark let his hand fall into his pocket, gripping his switch-blade. You didn’t work in a field like Mark did without caring some protection. Just because he didn’t want to engage with them, didn’t mean he couldn’t. It didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared to defend himself. 

“Hey!” came a firm and strong voice from Mark’s right, near the entrance of the club. “Back off.”

Suddenly there was a body in front of Mark’s, bigger than him, and Mark instinctively took a step behind it. He kept his hand on the knife, but looked up at his defender, surprised that someone was helping him. 

It was a vaguely familiar looking scruffy man, with brown hair falling into eyes that shone bright hazel even in the dark of the alley. The perpetually bored-looking bouncer from the club next door, The Falcon, who Mark often saw when he left work, but had never talked to. They had never interacted at all, in fact.

“Okay, okay,” the first drunk said, holding up one hand and taking a swig of his booze with the other. “Didn’t mean any harm. We just wanted to talk to the little guy.”

The second one seemed to pause, his eyes narrowing and his hand closing into a tight fist, and looked around at his cohort. The third one, who had not said anything yet, just swayed on his feet, his eyes closed. 

“Just move along,” the bored bouncer said, crossing his arms. 

Mark tried to focus on the threat in front of him, but his eyes followed the bouncer’s movement. His arms stretched the thin fabric of his tight white t-shirt, straining the material, bulging pleasantly. It was an intimidating sight. 

The drunks must have thought so too, because the first one grabbed his friend’s wrist and pulled him toward the mouth of the alley. “We don’t want any trouble, come on.” 

They grabbed their third buddy, practically scurrying away, down the street, until Mark could not see them anymore. 

He let out a deep breath he had not realized he had been holding as he watched them disappear from view. It was a closer call than he was used to; the alley was usually pretty quiet. Most of the clients of the brothel left as quickly as possible. And to be honest, he had never seen anyone other than the bored bouncer at the club, though there was always loud music and a lot of noise coming from inside. 

“You okay?” the bored bouncer asked, his arms falling to his sides. 

Mark turned his attention back to him, this time fully, and frowned. The man was giving him a concerned look, but not looking him in the eyes. Great. Mark was used to people who didn’t care for his profession, but it still stung to be confronted with it. 

“Yeah, thanks for the help,” Mark said, the words coming out dryer then he intended. “But I could have handled it on my own.” He didn’t need saving. He could save himself. 

“Sure,” the man shrugged, like he actually didn’t doubt Mark. “But there were three of them. Seemed like unfair odds.”

“So you thought you would even them,” Mark said, feeling skeptical. Who put themselves in harm’s way, with bad odds, for someone they didn’t know? It wasn’t the way people acted in Mark’s world, and he didn’t know what to do. 

The man smirked, the corner of his mouth pulling up just a little at the ends. “Better than standing over there and watching you get beat.”

Mark frowned harder. There was something about this guy that made him want to explain himself, to prove he didn’t need the help. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, taking the knife with it. He held it out open in his palm. “I wasn’t going to get beat.”

Bored bouncer’s eyebrows went up, the most expressive Mark had ever seen his face. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises…” 

“Mark,” Mark supplied his name. He owed at least that much to the guy. And though he didn’t know him, he did see him standing outside the club a few times a week. 

“Harrison,” the bored bouncer-Harrison-said, pointing at himself. “I see you leave a lot, just before my shift ends. I’ve only been working here for a few months, but this was the most trouble I have seen, and I thought-”

“Thanks,” Mark said with a tight nod, “Harrison. It was better than the alternative, I guess.”

Harrison nodded, pressing his lips together, and waved vaguely at the brothel building. “I am sure you all can handle anything, but I like knowing I am here, if any help is needed.”

That surprised Mark. Harrison had been acting strangely, and he had attributed it to someone who didn’t like his job. “It doesn’t bother you? What I do?”

“Not if it doesn’t bother you,” Harrison said matter of factly. He pointed over his shoulder, at the mouth of the alley. “It’s assholes like that who I can’t stand. No one has the right to act like they did tonight.”

Mark gave him a smile, a real one.

Harrison smiled back, a goofy sort of grin, all shining teeth and falling hair. 

“I should go,” Mark said, clearing his throat, and forcing himself to look away. It was late and he should get some sleep before he had to be up the next day. 

“Let me walk you to your car?” Harrison said, not sounding sure at all. He rubbed his hand on his chin, which had just a little more then a five o’clock shadow. “In case those guys are still lurking around.”

“I walked,” Mark said, with a shrug. “It’ll be okay.”

“Of course. Sure,” Harrison said, nodding quickly. Then he looked Mark right in the eye. “Or, if you want to hang around for a drink, my shift is over in ten minutes. I could walk you home.”

“Sure,” Mark said/answered, his eyes not leaving the scruffy man in front of him. 

+++

The next night, it was pouring rain when Mark left work. He had forgotten his umbrella, or rather, it had not occurred to him to bring it at all. It had been a clear sky when he left home hours before. 

Harrison was standing outside The Falcon again, under a small overhang. Mark tried not to stare, but it was hard. The top was not protecting Harrison from all the rain, just some of it, so his shirt was spattered and wet, sticking to him even tighter than usual. There were muscles on that man Mark had never seen before. 

He looked up while Mark was glancing at him. Mark blushed, and looked away. But he could not help it when his eyes flashed back. Harrison was looking at him now, and when their eyes met, even just briefly, Harrison held up a hand in a wave. 

Mark waved back, hesitantly, but with a smile at the attention. Harrison’s hand went up again, but this time he gave a ‘come here’ motion instead of just holding out his hand. 

What did Mark have to lose? He hunched his shoulders against the rain and ran over. 

“Late night?” Harrison asked, when Mark was safely under the small covering with him. 

“Yeah, last client went a little longer than scheduled,” Mark said, trying to be casual about his work. He almost never talked about it. His friends didn’t want to know, or didn’t know what he did at all. But the night before Harrison had not been shy about it. 

Harrison nodded, but his eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a coat.”

“Well,” Mark pointed out, “It’s summer.”

“Or an umbrella,” Harrison added. 

“I forgot it,” Mark shrugged. 

Harrison nodded. “I’ll walk you home again. You can share mine.”

It wasn’t a question, but it also wasn’t a demand. It was something else. Something strangely soft. Mark found he liked the way Harrison’s voice could do that, could make a suggestion that was more than a suggestion, while still making it a choice. 

“Thanks, that would be great,” Mark agreed. 

Without so much as going in to clock out, Harrison lift a large umbrella that was leaning against the building next to him, and opened it up. He held out an arm, and Mark ducked under it, pressing himself up against Harrison’s side, so that they could both fit under the small shelter. 

“Let’s go,” Harrison said, and they started to walk. 

Mark was charmed. 

Harrison was there again the next night, and every night that week. Mark stopped blushing and started looking forward to going over to the scruffy man when he walked out of work. Without really talking about it, Harrison walked Mark home each night after work. Sometimes, like when it rained, they touched, but it was never sexual, never anything more. 

Harrison’s shift finished half an hour after Mark’s did. So Mark started staying later at the brothel, keeping busy, or going over to The Falcon for a drink to spend the time. The bartender, Mayhew, was a large and hairy man, pretty intimidating. Until Mark talked to him.There was nothing Mayhew liked more than gossip. Mark had a good time talking to him, too. So when Harrison was off work on Monday, Mark still went in and hung out at the bar. 

By the end of the second week, though, Mark was not sure what he was doing. He liked his new friends, his new routine. Seeing Harrison was one of the bright spots of his nights. But he had been hoping for more than just friendship. 

Every time they were close, Mark’s heart beat faster. He found he was looking for excuses to brush an arm against Harrison, or to reach out and touch him. 

Even Mayhew made a joke about it one day, while Mark was trying out one of his new cocktails, called Blue Milk. It was just about all Mark could take, so he decided to be bold. That night, when Harrison’s shift ended, he had a purpose. 

“What did you think about Mayhew’s new cocktail?” Harrison asked, as Mark left the club. 

“One of his best yet,” Mark admitted. “But we barely ended up talking about it.” Usually, Mayhew wanted a detailed response to his new drinks, to know what he did right and wrong. 

“Oh yeah?” Harrison seemed interested. “What did you talk about?”

“He wanted to know why you haven’t kissed me yet,” Mark said boldly, finally putting his own thoughts into words. “I told him I was wondering the same thing.”

Two bright red spots broke out on Harrison’s face, one on each cheek. Little points of fire on his otherwise calm and controlled face. Was he embarrassed by the question? Had Mark been reading the situation wrong this whole time? It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t  _ feel _ possible. 

“I didn’t want to presume,” Harrison said slowly, like he was watching each word he said. His eyes flicked over his shoulder toward Tosche and then back to Mark. “I don’t want to be like everyone else, to be like them. And I didn’t want you to think it was just about how you look, about the physical. I wanted-” 

It was, quite possibly, the most Mark had ever heard Harrison say at one time. And every single syllable was exactly right, exactly what he wanted to hear. 

Mark leaned forward, closing the space between them, pressing his chest against Harrison’s. He wanted there to be no confusion. 

“I know,” Mark said, and then he tilted his head up and caught Harrison’s lips with his own. 

Immediately, Harrison responded, his arms going around Mark, holding him softly. One hand went to the back of Mark’s neck, cupping it, like he was something precious, something that could fly away at any moment and be lost. 

Harrison was the one to pull back, but he only moved his head, still holding the rest of Mark, not letting go. “Well, right,” he said, his voice scratchy and rough, “good.” 

Mark felt as dazed as Harrison looked. He felt warm and content and seen. More then that, he felt hope. Hope that this was something that was just starting. It was fresh and it was real and it was something Mark had not felt in a long while. 

Just thinking that sent a worried jolt through his spine, making him shiver. There was a reason he didn’t usually get into relationships. 

“It’s not going to bother you?” Mark said, tilting his head toward his work. “My job? What I do? That I sleep with other men and women?”

Harrison paused and seemed to really consider the question, give it real thought. For some reason, this gave Mark even more hope. He was not just reacting, he was processing, and his answer would be real. 

“If you tell me that it’s safe and that you are doing what you want, I will believe you. If you tell me no one is forcing you to do anything you don’t want, because of money, or something like that, then it doesn’t bother me. As long as you are happy,” Harrison’s eyes were focused and sure of what he was saying. His voice was strong again, and hard, and sure. 

Mark had to tell him the truth. That was the only way this would work. 

“It did start off that way, like you said with the money,” Mark admitted. “There’s this girl, sort of like my sister, and she was in trouble. Drugs. I needed to help her. The man who owns Tosche, Alec, he helped me out, gave me work, taught me what I needed to know. Helped me help her out. But it’s a good place to work, clean and no drugs and safe. Whenever there is an issue with a client he always sides with me, never makes me do anything I don’t want. It’s a good job, good money. Sex is fun and I’m good at it. So I don’t have plans to give it up.”

Harrison nodded along with each thing Mark said. He kept holding him, cradling him in his arms. He did not pull back or flinch. 

Mark, on the other hand was worked up, hyper focused on what he was saying, and getting tense. It wasn’t until he felt the warm hand on his back start to rub a calming circle that he was able to take a deep breath and wait for Harrison’s response. 

“Tell me it’s different, with us,” Harrison said, “with me.”

The simplicity of the response startled Mark. It was honest and stark. Mark nodded before he realized what he was doing. “It is. I love you.”

It had only been a few weeks. They had just kissed for the first time. But the words had just come out, and Mark was surprised to realize that they were true. This was real. 

A smile broke out on Harrison’s lips, big and just as real as the words Mark had said. “I know,” Harrison said, and then he leaned in and, pulling Mark tight against his chest, kissed him. 


End file.
